


Trips

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Boys on a walk.
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Trips

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Technically, they don’t _need_ walks; their health and general well being has absolutely nothing to do with exercise, and their bodies aren’t going to change for it—Markus is going to have a chiseled chest with a washboard stomach and trim hips no matter what he does, and Simon will always be tall and smooth with soft plating along his thighs and pectorals. But there’s something strangely calming about the simple act of _walking_ , especially when they’re _together._ Markus cherishes those quiet moments, even when they’re just in grubby, run-down streets in the bitter cold. His circuits can handle it. The hand in his generates a certain kind of heat, different from what a human’s would. Simon subtly glances over and smiles, something that warms Markus right to his very core. 

His thirium pump’s in perfect working order. A quick diagnostic confirms that. But it seems to beat infinitesimally faster when Simon’s at his side. They’re thirty minutes out from New Jericho, and Markus isn’t sure he ever wants to go back. 

He will, of course. He’ll return to his duties, to his purpose—he’ll rally his people and work tirelessly for them all, then retire to the little one-bedroom apartment he shares with his would-be-husband, and they’ll lie in each other’s arms on the single bed when they deactivate. They’ll come online together in the morning, systems fully recharged, legs intertwined and noses touching. Then Simon’s blue eyes will set off protocols Markus didn’t even know he had, and he’ll know he has to keep working hard, so that one day he really can legally marry the love of his _life._

Simon’s fingers tighten around his, and Markus squeezes back, thinking it just a little thing—a flicker of affection. Except when he peels his skin away to feel Simon _raw_ against his palm, Simon doesn’t return the gesture, like he almost always does. His pre-programmed breath hitches, and his steps falter—suddenly, he’s slumping forward, and Markus has to duck under his shoulder to catch him.

“Simon—”

“It’s fine,” Simon rasps, straightening again before Markus has finished catching his weight. He rigidly pushes up, shudders against Markus’ side, and insists, “It’s okay. I just... a few of the wires in my left leg are frayed. Happened at the last protest. It’s nothing, really—”

“You should’ve said something,” Markus scolds on instinct, because too many of his people just _accept_ it when they’re hurt. “We could’ve gotten you a new one.”

Simon snorts. His voice isn’t quite bitter when he talks, but it’s close. “You ever feel like you’ve had so many parts replaced that there’s nothing original left?”

Markus hasn’t had that particular existential thought. But he’s certain he’s as much, if not more new parts than Simon is. He clasps onto Simon’s arm, securing it around his shoulders, careful to be there in case Simon falls again. “We’ll see if it can be repaired when we get back. If not, I suggest you get over that.” Technically, it’s Simon’s choice. Simon can keep going on a broken leg if he wants, but he certainly doesn’t have to, and Markus hopes he doesn’t. He hates the thought of Simon being out somewhere alone and suddenly breaking down. Besides, unattended, a simple malfunction in one place can cause cascade failures in another. Simon nods like he knows. 

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I know. I... I will.” He nods again and sucks in a breath, even though he doesn’t need it. Breathing’s just a habit they’ve both fallen into. Then he takes a cautious step forward, out of Markus’ arms, and Markus swiftly follows. As soon as Simon winces, Markus is overtaking him. 

Markus wraps an arm around Simon’s shoulder blades and ducks to catch Simon’s knees. Springing up, he swings Simon into his chest, holding him there like a groom with a bride in one of Carl’s old wedding paintings. Simon holds onto his neck but protests, “Markus, I can make it back—”

“You’re hurt.”

Simon twists his lips. Markus starts walking, and Simon makes it easy for him, leaning into him, clinging to him, but still mumbling, “We don’t feel pain, remember?”

Markus doesn’t answer. He knows that they’re not _supposed_ to. But they’re also not supposed to feel love, and there’s no other way to describe his adoration for his boyfriend. Simon sighs and tries, “This is embarrassing.”

“We don’t feel shame, remember?”

Simon grins. The sparkle in his eyes admits defeat, the flush on his cheeks rife with adulation. He slowly acquiesces, melting into Markus’ arms without any trouble. 

Markus carries him the entire way home, right across the threshold, and doesn’t want to let go.


End file.
